


Falling Down

by AngelicSentinel



Series: almost, your kiss [20]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Concussions, Injury, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-11-16 04:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11246757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicSentinel/pseuds/AngelicSentinel
Summary: He’s half-dead, curled in Saguru’s lap with half a building on top of them both.It’s hard to think. That’s not a good sign.





	Falling Down

**Author's Note:**

> **Kiss Prompt 18:** kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap  
>  **Kiss Prompt 20:** top of head kisses

Saguru wakes first.

It’s dark, and rebar is digging into Saguru’s side. He should consider himself lucky, he thinks, that he is even alive.

Though for how much longer, he cannot say. And he is not the only one here.

Kuroba had surprised him as far as that was concerned.

Fact: Kuroba had showed up to the heist in casual clothing and stayed next to Saguru all night.

Fact: Kuroba had seemed unusually tense. He’d hid it well, but Saguru was familiar enough with body language to notice the tension he couldn’t quite hide.

Fact: Kuroba had been standing near enough to Saguru to tackle him out of the way when “Kid’s” explosion took out the building.

Conclusion: Kuroba is not the thief in white this evening. It is something Saguru already knew, but it bears repeating.

And now he’s half-dead, curled in Saguru’s lap with half a building on top of them both.

Unconscious at least. Bleeding from the head, at least as far as he can feel. He cannot see anything in this bloody darkness. He can feel wet dripping down his own scalp as well, for all that it doesn’t hurt much. But head wounds always bleed terribly, so he’s not as concerned as he might be otherwise.  

Still, it’s hard to think. That’s not a good sign.

He has no doubt Kuroba would have some ingenious plan were he awake, but that doesn’t seem to be a possibility anytime soon. Saguru certainly cannot think of one at the moment with his head as clouded as it is.

Only a small bit of moonlight filters through the room from a hole. It’s too small to fit through; widening it will cause the debris to collapse on top of them. The way the roof had fallen in leaves a small corner free, braced by the remnants of the walls, just large enough for two people to sit.

Mostly. Saguru’s foot is trapped underneath a chunk of concrete too large for him to lift alone. They are effectively trapped. Alive, certainly, but trapped.

The figure in his lap shifts, waking up slowly. Saguru lets out a sigh of relief. Kuroba isn’t dead after all. It’s like a weight has been lifted from his chest. “What? Hakuba!” Kuroba accuses. Saguru frowns. They aren’t exactly friends, but that’s a bit much.

“Yes?” he says, words those of long-suffering patience, though Saguru is exceptionally glad to see him awake. He seems cognizant.

“What are you doing in my dream?” Kuroba wonders.

He spoke too soon. That’s not good. They are both awake. Saguru frowns. “Am I often in your dreams then?”

“You don’t have to act so unbearably smug about it. I swear, every time. Though the rubble is new. Trying out something new?”

“Sure. I redecorated,” Saguru says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Post-apocalyptic survivor chic.” He doesn’t ask if he’s all right; he’s clearly not. He can’t check his eyes, or ask him to count his fingers, not in the dim light. “It’s the fashion in London.”

“Heheheh. It’s a good look for you,” Kuroba says, running his black-gloved hands across Saguru’s face. “Battleworn. Smudged with soot. I like it. Gives you a certain kind of panache. You seem ecstatic.”

“Yes, well, surviving a bomb does tend to make one inordinately happy to be alive, rather.” Saguru goes to say something else, but Kuroba shifts, climbing more solidly in his lap, and kisses him.

Saguru’s mind goes blank. What? Kuroba kisses him for a few seconds longer, then pulls away. “Don’t just sit there. Kiss me back.”

“Pardon?” Saguru says weakly.

“It’s my dream and I can shape them to be whatever I want and I say kiss me.”

“I kiss you often in your dreams, then?” Saguru asks. With as antagonistic as he acts, Saguru would have never guessed. Then again, perhaps it is an unwanted attraction, particularly in regards to certain uncompromising legalities, and dreams are a safe enough space to explore that. But this is no dream.

“Only as much as I want you to.”

“Yes. I surmised. Lucid dreaming?”

“Sure,” Kuroba says again, and then he kisses him again.

Saguru lets him. And then he kisses him back. His hands fall to his waist, then move back up slowly as Saguru takes the opportunity to check the rest of him for wounds under the guise of trailing his hands across his body, probing for any discomfort. He doesn’t feel any. Kuroba doesn't make any noise of pain.

Kuroba moves down with a kiss to Saguru’s jawline. Down down down the curve of his neck, a soft warm touch against his pulse point. Saguru takes a deep shuddering breath; positioned at the angle he is, Kuroba has good access to his neck. Saguru tilts his head back to give him better.

A hint of teeth, a bit of suction, and Saguru just knows that’s going to leave a dark blushing bruise. He lets out a noise as Kuroba moves back up, everywhere his lips touch sending fire shooting through Saguru.

He noses the shell of his ear and bites the lobe gently.

This is hell. Saguru’s burning gladly.

Kuroba is firmly in his lap, wrapped around him tightly, caging him with his thighs, and Saguru can’t do anything about it.

He doesn’t want to.

Kuroba presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat before moving up to capture his lips, drinking from him. Again. Again again again and again their mouths work against each other, the press of the hard debris against his back long forgotten.

One thinly gloved hand goes to his mouth. “Take it off,” Kuroba commands. Saguru bites the tip of each finger, pulls the fabric loose with the turn of his head. The glove dangles from his mouth, and Kuroba’s bare hand goes to his chin, caressing it. “Good boy,” he praises him, kissing him on the forehead, taking the glove and pocketing it somewhere where Saguru can’t see.

Saguru glows with pleasure.

Kuroba tilts his head. “Could you take everything off piece by piece with just your mouth?” he wonders.

Just the thought of it, of mapping his body from that proximity sends heat flooding through Saguru. “I-I can certainly try,” he says. “Not here, though.”

“You like that idea, don’t you?” Kuroba says. “Maybe some other time when we have a bit more freedom of movement, yes?”

“You could release me any time you want,” Saguru says. In more ways than one. Kuroba has a little more freedom of movement, and while he doesn’t have the leverage to move the block off his foot, Kuroba does.

“I could,” Kuroba agrees, “but where would the fun be in that?” he moves closer so their faces are just a hair’s breadth apart. “What were you saying about want?”

Saguru uses what little free movement he has to show him, kissing him again.

“I don’t think I quite got that. Want to run that by me again?”

And so he kisses him again, longer, teasing him with his tongue, biting Kuroba’s gently as it follows his back into his mouth until he pulls away again.

“Oh, I see. Well, I do believe you’ve made your point.”

He kisses him one more time, then curls up against his chest.

It doesn't take long before he’s asleep. Saguru’s sore and exhausted too; he struggles to stay awake, but he too eventually succumbs.

-

They both wake again as they are freed. Kuroba goes a shade of pale Saguru doesn’t think he’s ever seen, and he disappears as soon as the paramedics let him.

Saguru honestly hadn’t expected anything different.

-

Saguru is already in class when Kuroba and Aoko arrive the next week. Kuroba stares at him for a long moment, turns faintly pink, and storms off silently, leaving Aoko confused.

Saguru doesn’t think he’s ever been so quiet.

“Hakuba-kun, why is Kaito avoiding you? Even more so than usual?“ Aoko asks, curious.

“Just a particularly vivid dream, I imagine,” Saguru says wryly. Kuroba's head makes a loud noise as it thunks against the desk. Saguru touches his neck, marks carefully concealed. “One I wouldn’t mind having again.”

“What, seriously?” Kuroba says, and oh, that’s interest.

Saguru just smiles.


End file.
